What Happened at Sea?
by it me
Summary: In which a reasonably aged troll wakes up not knowing who he is, the pirates who sheltered him are far from ruthless, and there's maybe, possibly a team of hitmen on his trail?
1. Jadeth Who?

1

You're awake and everything hurts like you got mowed over by a whale in a four-wheel-device with spiked wheels. Or, at least, that's what you're preparing yourself for.

It all consciously starts with an internal debate. Do you really want to wake up? You already feel some subdued pain, and you can only imagine it'll get that much worse with mental clarity. Unfortunately, you also have the weird urge to, you know, figure out where you are. Not that you care that much, but it's an instinctual urge. You'd be very happy to keep sleeping and ignore your physical agony.

Still, your dumb ass's eyes slide open, your retinas burning with the harsh light being revealed to you. You breath hitches with fear until you realize that your burning is purely under-the-skin. With that clarified (ish), you continue to blink away the burn and the blurriness in your eyes, your head turning slightly away from the light (Read: as far from the light as you can make it turn). Not enough to relieve your agony-stricken gander bulbs. A groan reaches your sponges, and it takes you a few embarrassing seconds to realize that it came from you.

Seriously, what the fuck?

You feel your arms twitch and shiver, your thighs following the pattern. It's deeply discomforting. Your breath becomes more labored as you try to push yourself up, trying to get some kind of handle over your life. Yeah, up. You're 80% sure that you're laying down.

Unfortunately, you're making no progress on the "up".

You take a deep breath and manage to turn your head right and away from the light that was assaulting you. You were more successful than before, which was a start. (Little victories, right? Even though that's bullshit ideology.)

You glance blearily about your surroundings. You see a bunch of crates and barrels, some of them overflowing with vegetables and fruits, others hiding away their items and leaving nothing for inference. You take another breath - through your nose, with the intent of smelling- and nearly cough at the intense odor of ginger, betraying your makeshift bed. How the fuck did that one get by you?

Filthy mouth-breather.

Suddenly, the whole ground lurches, rolling you back in the direction of the light you had only just managed to escape.

Although you can find it in yourself to panic (you did not make any wimpy-ass noises) your muscles and motor skills are entirely useless. So, you can't even scramble for a hold when you're pushed by the very sacks of ginger you'd been laying on into the wall below the source of the light. Betrayal stings. You (do not) yelp at the pain, your nose throbbing in time with your forehead, and your left wrist thrumming with barely-there discomfort. Looks like you caught yourself, even if it did jack-shit for you. (Technically, that placement was a coincidence, but you'll still give yourself the credit.)

You have to thank the spontaneous lurching, because now you've got fear fueling your arms and letting you shakily push yourself from the wall, and back on top of the ginger. Apparently that's better. You manage it, so you reward yourself a breather, letting your pan give you a mental pat on the back. Then, you draw your brows together and use your new-found arms to push your yourself up. You manage to sit up (HELL FUCKING YES!) and you grin triumphantly at your feet.

And then your head rushes and you fall back, eyes squeezed shut.

Back to square one, it seems. Fucking go figure.

"What do you mean you don't see it?"

"I jutht don't!"

Your muscles all tense up at the muffled voices and frustrated stomps above you, even though it pains you. Who the hell was that? Are they the reason your body was out cold on a rancid sack of ginger? Do... Do they know you're alive? Maybe you should be dead. Maybe you're on this stinking ginger to cover the smell of what they thought would be your rotting corpse. Fuck you for not thinking that you were possibly in a very dangerous situation. You get the familiar urge to bash your head against a wall, and then your mind distracts you from that impulse by giving you a billion (un)likely scenarios you could be in. You bite back a terrified whimper and start piecing what you know together.

Lurching. Obviously you are on some kind of boat. Cargo. This could lead to a few ideas. Maybe you're on a merchant's ship. Or maybe this is the pantry of some politician's ship. Or maybe this is all stolen. Maybe this is some pirate's ship.

You groan. This isn't the time for your paranoia to get the best of you.

You bite your lip and focus on your tingling legs, swinging them down onto the wooden planks of the floor, making soft thudding sounds. You clench your teeth because that was not good for your head, but you also aren't a pansy so you're gonna push through.

You aren't wearing shoes. This concerns you.

However, that could definitely work your advantage. Less sound to alert anyone as you rise on shaking legs and hobble towards a barrel to lean on. From this new height you can see past the barrels and sacks.

You spot a set of wooden stairs leading up from this room to, if you had to guess, the deck.

But between you and the step ladder is a dog. A rather large dog, at that. In fact, you think he might be a wolf.

The wolf is sleeping, and for that you couldn't be more grateful, because surely if he were awake he would hear your pounding heart (and if it isn't a goddamn miracle that the lurching didn't wake him up to see you moving around).

You take a tentative step around the barrel you're leaning on, thankful for the steadier leg. Fear does wonders for your motor skills. Who'd've thunk it?

You creep slowly around the curve, never letting go of the edge and never looking away from the wolf.

You continue this slow pace, creeping slowly through the openings and clear spaces of floor, also making sure to keep some obstacles between you and the beast. Slow and steady avoids waking the horrorterrors, you know. Plus, if he were to wake up, he'd have to work through fifty pounds of carrots before getting to taste your less-than-prime ribs.

But now your progress is almost comically slow, since your terror drives you to go so far as to even hold your breath every time the wolf's ear so much as twitches.

Eventually, you manage to be within reach of the stairs. Now it was just a matter of getting up there, and avoiding detection. From both the wolf and whoever was up there.

You think through the situation, trying to slam together a strategy, but you can't think of any way out that would work in real life. Even if you somehow managed to get on deck without being seen by anyone, and without turning into dogmeat, there was no where you could go. You know the ship isn't docked, and even if the lurching signified a depart, ships are pretty fast. You're not even sure you can swim.

You blink at the thought.

Shouldn't you be? You think it's pretty easy to know if you can swim. You either learned, or you didn't.

But that's just the thing, isn't it? You don't know if you learned or not.

You rack your brain, trying to dig up any memories of being around water, of being on a ship before, of being anywhere at all. You can't think of a single thing besides the stench of ginger and a burning throat.

You choke on your breath, completely unaware of anything besides the fact that you can't remember anything. Your name, your age, your own fucking face; it's gone.

You marvel that you even know it's gone.

A low growl jars you back to reality. Your eyes flick up to meet the wolf's, since the rest of your body is frozen with fear. You feel your eyes widen at the green hue of its irises, and you mutter incoherent prayers under your breath.

You don't remember having religious inclinations, but you don't really remember fucking anything, so whatever.

The wolf continues to snarl and growl, its snout wrinkled and its lips pulled back, baring bright white teeth that would no doubt easily mince through your tough skin.

You slowly (so slowly) bring your hands up in a pacifying gesture, and you guess you're the world's best diamond, because that gesture alone makes the wolf relax its haunches and sit back, face impassive. Your brows rise in surprise at the quick surrender (because holy shit, you thought you were going to die right there), and you decide that the wolf must be domesticated, and extremely disciplined. Even if you wanted to take all the credit, that's the only way to explain its presence on a ship, unleashed and uncaged.

You drop your shaking hands to your side, letting out a long breath of relief.

And then it starts barking.

You shout in surprise, and start shooshing at it aggressively, even though the chances of that working are slimmer than a regular patron of a cheap-ass restaurant with stingy portions. You hear more murmuring above you and steps approaching the hatch at the top of the steps. You pull at your hair, groaning deep in your throat and staring at the wolf with wide eyes. It stops barking and cocks its head at you, its tongue hanging out of its mouth as it pants. You snarl at it and its blatant mockery and look around for somewhere to hide. You panic at the sound of a latch and duck for cover.

You know. Like an idiot.

Well, maybe you can just camouflage in the chaos of crates and barrels. They're fairly tall, and apparently you're great at imitating a ball.

Oh god, you're going to be found and flayed like a piece of meat, you brainless doof.

You hear the hatch swing open and a soft voice drifts down the steps. "Bec?"

The wolf yips.

You hear the sound of boots on wood, and you figure the human is coming down. It sounded like a human.

You hold your breath and consider your options.

Oh, right, you have none.

Their boots clunk across the floor and around the post of the mast. You press your palms to your eyes, watching explosions dance across the back of your eyelids. FUCK. Having a memory would be great right about now, especially if it turned out you knew how to fight or something equally helpful under the circumstances you've been given.

"Hey, where...?"

You stare at your hands helplessly before gasping with inspiration. You love when that shit hits you. You shoot up from your crouching position and hold a hand out to both of the creatures in the space. You hope they can't tell your blood color from this distance, if your eyes have started filling in. No age, remember? No. You don't. "DON'T MOVE!"

The human turns quickly and blinks owlishly at your stance. The wolf, or 'Bec', continues to pant at you.

Wait, are you Bec? Probably not, but you can't really ask anyway. That'd be giving them the upper hand. If they clarify and you do turn out to be Bec, then no one loses, because you obviously know them well enough for them to give you a nickname.

You focus your glare on the bipedal creature, looking them over. They're wearing a pair of brown trousers and a white blouse stained with dirt and what looks like blood. The human seems unarmed, but you don't know what's in their deck. Green eyes, matching the wolf's oddly enough, are wide and confused. They really don't look like a threat.

Hell, they're not even a troll. And apparently, you are. But you don't need your memory to figure that out.

"Um..."

You flex your hand and narrow your gaze. You think you're lying, but you hope you aren't when you say,"Don't. Move. I have psionics and I'm not afraid to use them."

"Okay! Calm down." Their hands raise in surrender. "Let's not be irrational, okay?"

"Don't patronize me, you thin-skinned pin-cushion. Do you have any idea how easy it is to kill your kind?" Alright, you're just bullshitting. But they do look pretty squishy. You curl your fingers slightly and they purse their lips, taking a step back.

To their credit, they don't look particularly scared. A bit irritated, and definitely on guard, but not scared.

"I wasn't trying to be patronizing, relax. I'm suggesting you put your hands down and we talk. Rationally. Like two civil people."

You feel your hands start to shake. The adrenaline was wearing off, thanks to the human not being a bloodthirsty beast. It was the only thing keeping you still. On the plus side, you can safely assume you aren't Bec by now. "Talk. Where am I?"

They tic their jaw. "You're on my ship. We just left a small island in the middle of Cerulean."

You're stuck on the first bit. "Your ship?"

They smile, revealing crooked, dull teeth. "Yeah! I'm the captain of this beauty. Even her schematics are mine."

You furrow your brows, a physical signal that you don't believe them. It sounds highly implausible. This human designed, built and now sails a ship on their own? Granted, you know the human has a crew, but then that's strange occurrence to factor in as well. You wonder what kind of merchant they must be, or if they're apprenticing under some kind of some bigwig adventurer or some shit.

And then there's age, because human lifespans are laughable and this human...

"Are you even old enough to be a captain?"

"I'm old enough to know when I'm being lied to," they retort. "I thought giving you a sense of an upper hand would calm you down, but if you're calm enough to insult the owner of the ship you're on, I guess we're good to drop pretenses. Put your arms down."

You pull your arms back to your sides, defeated. "How do you know I'm lying?"

"Oh, please! I know trolls with psionics. Your pose is too untrained for a troll of your age to plausibly have grown up with them, not to mention cheesier than macaroni made right." They drop their mask of irritation and gift you a complacent smile, because that totally isn't patronizing. They hold out a hand, beckoning you to come closer and shake it. "Jade. My last name's mine and mine alone, but you're free to use that."

You make your way around the barricade of crates and take the hand, letting them lead a gentle shake. You're moving like a kicked puppy, and you feel shitty for it, but what else are you supposed to do? They have you beat. "Jade. I, uh..."

Jade raises a brow and tilts their head. "And you are?"

You don't know. You can't let them know that you don't know, because you don't know them or what they'll do with that. Do they already know you don't know? You don't want to find out, honestly.

Think faster.

"Jadeth. Is my name."

You ass-scratching brain tumor.

They laugh and shake their head, looking at you with a face full of pity. Gross. "You're cute. That's alright, you don't need to give me your real one just yet. I understand that this is a really odd situation you're in, but trust me: I'm a friend, not a foe."

You nod in acknowledgment of their words, not necessarily because you believe them.

You want to ask them how you ended up on the ship, what they were planning to do with you, where the ship was bound for, but your words were lodged in your throat without proper phrasing. You didn't want to come off as some kind of idiot (again), clarifying every other word and tripping over your intentions.

Jadeth. Ugh. You disgust yourself.

"How are you feeling?" Jade asks, looking you over. Their bright green gaze stops briefly at your trembling legs (would you look at that?) before meeting yours again.

Your move. They've shown concern and wit, and left you with two options. Play off the pain in your head (thank you, inertia) and the weakness in your limbs, making you seem tougher than you are and painting you as an absolute liar. Or, share what ails you with them and trust them to. Well. Not use your vulnerability against you.

You definitely aren't good with trusting, but you also know you're a horrible liar.

"Like shit," you sigh. Clean, concise. Nice job, fuckface.

Jade laughs sympathetically, which you didn't even know was a thing people did, and starts to walk back towards the steps. "I'm not surprised, Jadeth." You groan. "Heh, you had a rough few days with us. Some of our crew didn't think you'd make it. I'm actually shocked that you're moving around so easily."

You follow them slowly, unsure if they plan on letting you come up with them. "Days?"

Jade hums two notes of a positive tone, scratching Bec's head as they walk past the wolf to the steps. "We're reaching the end of your third."

You walk around the wolf, keeping your hands away from him as his snout follows you. You get past him and stand at the base of the stairs and while Jade's four steps up twelve. "So?"

They keep climbing, turning to gesture at your immobility. "Follow me. We'll walk and talk, we have things to do!"

You hold your sigh of relief. Jade wasn't treating you like a captive, but there was a dog here presumably to keep guard. Your caution is not misplaced.

You start to climb the steps, but overestimate your ability for the first time since you've woken up. Your left knee wobbles with the weight of your body, and you nearly tip over. Jade hops down a few steps and grabs your shoulder, barely catching you before you do.

"Thanks," you mutter, stumbling and straightening up, heart still pounding. The wolf barks a laugh because it's an asshole.

"No problem," Jade dismisses. They hold out an arm and smile. "I've been meaning to install rails, but you can hold my arm."

You take their arm, muttering another thanks under your breath. You nearly balk at the firm flesh under the human's sleeve. Damn.

As you make your way up together, Jade asks you,"How much do you remember?"

Your fingers tighten around their arm slightly. "Not much."

"Nothing from your time on board? You woke up a few times, but I guess you were pretty out of it."

"No. I don't even remember how I got here," you grouse.

"Well, you wouldn't. You were unconscious when we got you onboard." Jade tugs you up onto the floor of the not-deck. You move out of the way so Jade can close the hatch, and you can look around. You're not on the deck, as you'd thought you would be, but in the sleeping quarters. Sixteen beds, eight along each side and bunked, with two chests nailed on the floor next to each of the lower beds. You guess Jade mustn't have any trolls in their crew, lest they sleep without sopor, somehow. That makes the whole 'I built this ship and also I'm the captain' story somehow more plausible. No troll would trust a human's engineering enough to work on one of their ships, besides seadwellers, but they're privileged asswipes who wouldn't stand for a human captain.

All this social policital bullshit and you still can't remember what color your own blood is.

"Okay, so since we're sharing and telling, would you rather I tell you how we found you, or would you like to tell me about what happened before all this?" Jade asks, rolling a carpet over the hatch to hide it. Sketchy.

Uh-oh. Well, let's get some answers before your untimely demise comes. "How did you find me? Chance or..."

"Chance, naturally. We weren't looking for you. We aren't hunters," Jade snorts. She pulls a hand to her chest and raises a brow at you. "Do I look like someone who hunts people down for a living? I think 'no'!"

Your hackles rise. "Well, I don't know who the hell you are. It doesn't hurt to make sure, right? Sorry for being cautious, my bad."

"Oh, come on! I was teasing. We're in the same boat, Jadeth," Jade says. You make a face at the human's sense of humor. Their eyes widen and they laugh shortly, kind of surprised. That turn of events makes you incredibly nervous. "Oh my god, I really didn't mean to do that."

You stare at Jade for a second before relaxing. "Right."

"I didn't!" Jade giggles before sobering up and crossing their arms, fixing you with an inquisitive stare. "Why do you ask that specifically, though? Do you think anyone is after you?"

You hadn't considered that. Would anyone be looking for you? Hunters? Friends? A quadrant-mate? Anyone?

Fuck honesty, but also it's your only choice. "I don't know. That's why I asked. Duh."

Jade gives you a look for your attitude, then continues to walk past you to another set of stairs. They stand at the base and turn around to talk to you. "My entire crew is upstairs. More than half of them have yet to form an opinion about you, but that doesn't mean they don't want answers. Are you ready to prove we can trust you to walk the ship freely?"

You suck in a shaky breath and shrug, shaking your head. "I don't have anything to hide."

Really, you don't have anything. You have nothing. You don't remember anything.

Seriously.

Jade nods and their shoulders relax. A grin grows across their face. "Great! Then just come with me."

Again, you use Jade's arm to support yourself as you make your way up the steps. With time, your embarrassment fades. Plus, you're kind of really awed by Jade's fucking muscles. Fucking, because you're frustrated that the human's stronger than you and making your stomach turn not necessarily unpleasantly. Jade knocks the hatch open and pulls you up, making you stumble over your feet and center yourself again.

You straighten yourself up and look at the semi-circle around the hatch. There are trolls in this crew, and that surprises you.

"Get him something to sit on," Jade orders sternly from behind you. Not quite the voice you remember.

A troll around your height with a blue do rag - triangular horns poking through holes in the fabric tell you that this one's a poser (sailor poser psh)- pushes a tall stool across the deck, smiling at you and leaving the stool next to you to walk back to the rest of the group. Mob mentality. Kind of. You don't bother trying to climb it, you just rest an elbow on the seat and lean heavily on it to relieve your legs.

"Thank you, Nepeta," you turn to Jade and find yourself shrinking back from them. They seem… bigger. More formidable.

You just chose this person to be the judge of your fate in regards to this ship. Maybe even your life.

And you had no idea they could make you piss your pants with a glare.

You're not someone who has good ideas. That just isn't you.

* * *

A/N: whoops i deleted the notes

i edited and had a beautiful wonderful amazing beta Latest From The Asylum look it all over so there's that (thank you so so much you're the best)

feel free to criticize and stuff that's cool


	2. Hell Fucking Yes!

2

Your head is throbbing in two distinct locations. First, inside your pan, where your brain throbs in time with your pulse. Second, the back of your head, where it feels like you've been scalped with a starch-egg peeler. This pain is all you can focus on, making your more primal instincts speed up your heartbeat for the coming flight or fight response. (Which, for the record, is fucking stupid, because trollkind has to be the most evolved species known within a 10 light year radius from the planet you were hatched on.)

"What were you _thinking_?" Whoop, now you're focusing on that. An unfamiliar voice. "The poor boy's been out for three days, he's barely gotten the nutrition he needs, and you think it's a good idea to bring him up for an interrogation?"

Your pain becomes secondary to your confusion. Are they talking about you? You kind of have to doubt it, considering you don't remember any interrogation.

They did say 'out for three days', however...

Okay, first things first. Where are you? How did you get here? Does the voice actually belong to someone you know, but are blanking out on at the moment for no currently discernible reason?

Lots of questions.

You feel your brows furrow as you try to think back to whatever hurt your head, but you find that you can't remember how that happened. You try to think about what could have happened before that, anything before this, trying to trace backwards. But you're coming up with nothing.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to get some answers out of him, is that so unreasonable?"

Answers? What answers? You don't have any answers.

Dammit. Where_ are_ you? This isn't the time to blank- uh.

Uh.

No.

No way.

You bypass all your screaming instincts of self-preservation and sit up (you're not getting away from these people in your condition anyway, might as well plead insanity, which doesn't seem to be too far from the cold hard truth), grabbing at yourself, pulling at your clothes, trying to find a sign- or- or- anything that might tell you who you are, because this is definitely not something you should be forgetting. Everyone knows their name, so why the fuck are you blanking on yours? Why can't you remember anything? Why don't you know where you are?

Why don't you know _anything?_

This frenzied search does all of nothing, and only succeeds in making you panic and begin to palpitate. You feel your eyes begin to sting and that serves to piss you off on top of your fear. You grab at your head, which is pounding at a loud and steady rhythm, and press it down to your barely-bent knees. Your breath is coming in short gasps.

This can't be happening. Not to you. Not you.

Why you?

"Uh- Ah- _Jadeth_, calm down!"

A pair of sturdy hands grab at yours, trying to keep you from making yourself bald. You pant, your adrenaline far from fading, drawing your blurry vision up to look at the owner of the hands.

Green, green eyes. A human. A strong human. That can't be right. Are your eyes as fucked as your pan?

"Are you okay?" Their brows are furrowed with something and those eyes are filled with fear. For you? For them?

Huh. What did they call you? Jadeth?

They know you.

"I- I don't-" Your hands are shaking. You're still struggling to breathe. "F-fill me in. What the fuck's going on?"

The human frowns and opens her mouth, but doesn't say anything. She just shakes her head slightly. You can practically see the surprise noodles in her eyes.

"Just. Where am I?" You decide that's an easy one to start with. It's less general. This one seems a little behind.

She narrows her eyes at you, her expression hardening. Her confusion is no less clear, though.

O...kay. An all brawn no brains kind of human. Not much surprise there, honestly. You can't have everything.

Oh, look, you're calming down. You never thought idiocy would accomplish that for you.

"Doesn't he speak Human?" You snap your head towards the other human in the room. Nicer-looking but also somehow scarier? Considering there are only three of you in this cramped space, you have to assume they were the one (apparently) vouching for you.

"He does," the one holding your hands murmurs. Okay, time to name them, because you're getting confused. Green and Not Green. Perfect.

"And I am." You snap, pulling your hands away from Green.

Green frowns and stands up fully, making you glare up at them. You don't put much force behind it, but you're frustrated, scared, and in agony, so you're gonna glare no matter how intimidated you _definitely aren't._

"Go get Aradia." Wait, who?

"And leave him alone with you?" Not Green asks skeptically. You kind of want to side with them on that, with the way Green is looking down at you.

"That was an order, Jane," Green insists (great, Not Green- er, Jane has a name). How much authority does Green have, anyway?

'Jane' huffs a laugh and crosses their arms. "Order schmorder. Promise me you aren't going to start poking answers out of him. He doesn't need the added stress of your top notch interrogating."

Green sighs and loses a few inches of height. "Fine! Now, go!"

Jane thrusts two fingers towards their bright blue (woah crap) eyes, then back to Green before leaving the room.

There's a beat of silence after the shoddy door creaks shut, where you can only hear your own regulating breath.

"Okay, listen." You jump in surprise at the harshness of the voice and then the same hands that'd soothed you before are grasping your collar. You're pulled up off of the cot you'd been resting on and leveled to stare into the burning eyes of oh, so wishy-washy Green. The knives in those eyes feel like they're pressed to your neck. Or maybe those are just knuckles.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, and I really don't care. Obviously you feel like you're in danger, and that's understandable, but I really need you to start cooperating." Green jerks you a little, making your stomach twist and your sight black out for a second. Then your eyes are back to their scheduled program of intense, acidic green. "I'm _serious_. This is far from prime time to be taking care of a charity case, and I refuse to believe you are one. So quit alienating yourself. This time I meant to do that."

The door creaks open again and Green drops you on the cot. Your hands go up to rub your throat and beat back the heat in your face. You can't tell if it's tied in with the dizziness, honestly.

Who is this human to you? And do_ what_ 'this time'?

In walks Jane again, this time with a troll who you take to be- what was it? 'Ardiaz'?

The troll's smile widens into a grin at the sight of you. "Hi, _Jade_-eth."

You narrow your eyes. Why did they say your name like that?

"He's apparently lost his ability to speak Human," informs your possible pitchmate in a jovial tone.

"Yeah, Jane said." 'Arkansas' then focuses on you and lets their words melt into the growls and clicks of Trollspeak. "Can you at least understand Human?"

You nod, only not too harshly, and let your voice betray the majority of your frustration. "And I can fucking speak it, too. These half-wits have malfunctioning auricular sponge clots or something."

'Andreas' reverts to Human, suddenly ignoring you. "There's got to be some major brain damage. He doesn't even know he's speaking in Trollspeak."

You balk. Are these assholes trying to fuck with your head? "What? I think I would be able to hear if I was speaking a different language from the pin-cushions, thanks."

"He's also racist."

"Oh." Jane is looking at you with a bewildered expression, brows high and mouth slack enough to personally offend you.

You snarl at Andy the Asshole and fall back against the cot before realizing that was a huge mistake and covering your eyes while your body catches up to your movement.

"Get him some water, maybe some bland soup."

"You heard her, Aradia."

Her. Aradia.

"I was talking to you, too, Jade."

Jade.

Wait. Wait a fucking minute.

Jade-eth.

Hrm. There's something there besides coincidence that amuses the Devil-Troll.

You miss some key points of conversation while your pan scrambles to clear away the rot that's keeping you stuck mid-epiphany.

"Fine!" A door slams and muffled laughter follows.

"Okay, Jadeth. Or whoever you are." Um? "I have an Empire-designed translator a friend of mine copped off of another friend of mine, and I'd like your permission to use it."

You crack your eyes open, relieved to see the ceiling is still. You turn your head to the side to look at her rummage through a drawer. "In practice, it looks very painful, but it's quite efficient. Although, could you expect less from the Empire?"

You shake your head slowly. The Empress is probably one of the most wonderful people you don't even know. Unless you do know her. In which case, one of the most wonderful people you've forgotten knowing.

All this uncertainty is making you twelve times more nauseous than you already were.

Jane touches your hand. It's cold, as you expected (blue eyes, even across species, still mean _cold_). Her face, however, is fairly warm. Expression-wise. You blink at her. You're actually afraid if you open your mouth to say, well, _anything_ to her, vomit might come out instead, and she hasn't given you any reason to unleash that upon her.

Besides, most of it would probably end up on you, in this position.

"Mind sitting up for me?" she asks, holding the translator to her chest. Almost obscuring it from your view with her hand. Nice try, you can still see the damn pincers.

What does she think you are? Weak?

Well. Maybe. Right now. This minute. Probably not always.

She helps you sit up so you won't keel over with disorientation, and manages the assistance with one hand. All of these humans (literally two) you're meeting are fairly strong, and you feel like that directly opposes what you used to know. Not that any of what you used to know can even apply anymore.

Jane looks at your face for a moment, uncertain. She then sighs and turns away from you, hopping around the room and looking for something. What, is she part rabbit? Seriously,_ hopping._ To be fair the floor is more cluttered with supplies than your train of thought with paranoia.

When she finds what she's been looking for (for the last ten million sweeps), she places it in your-

Oh.

Oh_ hell_ no.

You try to shove the thing away from you, but she holds it firmly in your lap. You feel weak, and you can't verbally protest without spewing some kind of bile all over her and the pail (bucket, whatever, semantics.), and your head is pounding, and eventually you just kind of hold the rim loosely, glaring at the bottom of it.

"I'm sorry, for what it's worth, but you already look like crap, and I really don't want to have to clean up your barf. Besides, you wouldn't be the first. You live on the sea long enough and things tend to take a turn for the embarrassing, and then you get over it." There's a break. "Or you don't, but you drag your shame along with you."

You jerk your head sullenly in agreement. You still decide right there that whatever tries to come up your windhole is going to be forced back down, no matter how disgusting or painful it is.

You outright _refuse_ to release any contents into this genetic expulsion donation retainer. You wouldn't be able to bear it.

But. Why?

"Alright. I'm putting it on. " She kneels on the cot, shifting you and making you cling to the bucket so it doesn't fall. She brushes the hair at the base of your neck up, and you flinch because. It feels nice? You should cut your hair.

Yes, distract yourself.

You feel something tickling your neck like claws gently scritching your nape.

And then there's pain, flashing through your entire body, waves of electricity rushing down and out of your spine, numbing your extremities. You go blind for half a second, become far too familiar with the great Void in those twelve dreadful moments than you ever wanted to be, and your pan melts down into your sinuses and drips into the rest of you in a feeling so gross and invasive, the only reaction you're capable of being hunching over and vomiting into the retainer you'd sworn seconds ago you wouldn't fill with anything.

You're shaking when your eyes roll forward again, and the rancid stench of what could be nothing more than bile rising from the retainer (yes, that really is a much better name, use it _forever_.) making your protein sack gurgle and twist with the desire to purge the extraordinary amount of nothing in your body.

Jane pats your back, which makes you wince and grit your teeth, though fuck if she notices. So much for warm, she's clearly cold-blooded. She pulls the retainer from you, and your arms fall slack as you resist the slouch that's only causing you more pain.

She murmurs words of praise as she tends to you, wiping your mouth a little roughly, but not unpleasantly so.

The door creaks open and two wide eyes peer in. Aradia.

Aradia enters slowly, closing the door behind them and holding the cup up in presentation. "Hydration juice at the ready."

Jane giggles and holds a hand out. "Hand it over. The kid just emptied his stomach of lining; he really needs to get _something_ in him."

"John's cooking something up for him," they inform Jane. Only then do they directly address you, tilting their head in question. "How are you holding up, Jadeth?"

Your mouth feels like it's full of threaded clouds, and you can't do much more than shake your head slowly at them.

The room spins with your movement, and you just want to lay down in a ditch and never get up.

"Woah, there." A hand comes around to support your side, and you realize you'd been leaning over. "Not until you drink some water, at the very least. I'd_ like_ to get something a little more substantial in you, but I'll settle for mere hydration."

You blink, one eye at a time (you're the epitome of excellent mental well being), and let Jane hold the cup to your lips. Your hand sluggishly comes up to 'help' as she tilts it.

You barely process the fact that some human is helping you complete one of the most basic tasks imaginable. As a result, the overwhelming feeling of being pathetic is filtered into a little self-pity.

"Easy does it," she encourages you, or maybe herself. She seems to be having trouble keeping the pour slow and steady. Her eyes speak of a restraint that makes you uneasy.

The slight burn of the water as it flows down your chagrin tunnel distracts you from your emotional unease, and instead serves to clear your mind and make the pain in your spine and head less fuzzy and much sharper. The state is less overwhelming, somehow. Having a clear sensation to focus on feels better?

You guess.

By the time the cup is empty, you have enough presence of mind to push Jane's hand away and grab the cup for yourself. (Though you did put as much force as you could into the shove, it still felt like she was_ letting_ you, and that feels shitty.)

You don't really know what to do with the cup, and suddenly you feel dumb for taking it away from her. It was a cheap power move that just made you look like an ass.

"Can I see it?"

You wait for Jane to respond and give more context to the question, but then you realize that she's leaving the room, retainer in tow. Aradia is left alone with you, rusty eyes poring into yours with their intense stare.

You clear your throat while you think of a way to question the Devil-Troll, which is a _monumental_ mistake. You send yourself into a coughing fit that's probably going to end with your throat scraping up a pint of blood. Aradia makes a sympathetic noise akin to a coo, and walks closer to you. They encourage you to press your head to their stomach, which is actually uncomfortably warm. The nails Aradia runs along your scalp, however, are _amazing_. "Brain beetle really screwed you up, huh?"

You shake your head against them, eyes screwed shut and throat on fire. You're not sure what that meant, but _don't stop_.

Aradia runs their blunted claws against the bases of your horns (which makes your face uncomfortably warm, like, really, who the hell do they think they are?) until your breathing is regulized and your coughing has ceased.

"You good, Jadeth?"

"Y-yeah," you rasp.

"Good! The beetle's pretty nasty, by the way, I love it."

"You can have it," you grumble, coughing slightly. Even the weak little rasps send your throat into a world of pain.

Aradia giggles and it sends a shudder down your spine (that realistically probably just came from the beetle.) "But then I wouldn't get to see it, and that's eighty percent of the appeal."

You don't respond, because why bother? You don't really care about anything beyond their fingers in your hair.

"The other twenty percent goes to sating the curiosity I have regarding the actual experience. I'm a little turned off by the robotic invasiveness." Figures they were going to fill you in anyway. Aradia draws a hand into a (gentle?) fist at the base of your head. "I know I shouldn't, and I won't, but I really want to poke it."

A weak growl makes it out of you. Your only pitiful means of defense. Aradia blows you off, poking your horn and choking your growl off.

What the_ hell_ is going on?

"She, by the way. That's me." Finally, someone says it to you directly.

There's a sharp knock on the door that encourages you to scramble away from Aradia, to the farthest end of the platform. Aradia laughs and turns to the door. "Come on in. Slowly! Don't want to spook him anymore than he already is."

"Haha! Alright, but the longer I take, the quicker this sludge will cool off!" The door opens a bit and a pasty hand pushes in a bowl with some kind of, well. _Sludge_. "You taking it might just be easier for everyone, Aradia."

Aradia snorts and shakes her head. "Get in here, already."

More snickering as the door opens, and then he's just grinning and looking you over. "Man, you look terrible. This sludge is probably just gonna make you feel worse, but Nana said you have to eat it."

You don't really know what to do with him. Or anyone. Everyone has been approaching you with too much energy. Everyone besides Jane, you guess. Of course, she did stab you in the back of the neck with a brain-bug.

John sets the bowl down cautiously on the sheets in front of you. It looks to thick to spill, which is fine for his placement, but there don't seem to be any utensils?

Still, you scoot forward and grab the bowl, not making any move to eat, but muttering a 'thanks' under your breath.

"No problem, man. Oh! I'm John, by the way. Forgot to introduce myself, since we've around you for three days."

"Karkat," you mutter absently, sticking a claw into your sludge. It reeks of ginger.

"Huh?"

You glance up at him, taking in his raised brow and perplexed expression. Do all humans learn that expression formally, or is it a genetic thing? "What?"

Aradia quickly starts to move out. "Stay with him, John. I'll be right back."

"Oh, okay." He blinks after her before turning back to you. "What did that mean? 'Car-cat'? Was that Trollspeak for something?"

You screw up your face at him. What's he blathering on about? "I've got a bug leeching all the Trollspeak from my brain. Human is the only damn thing available to me. That was."

Oh.

Oh _hell yes_.

HELL FUCKING YES!

"That was...?"

You grin at him and his confusion. Triumphantly, you say, "It's my name, genius."

* * *

A/N: omfg

ok thanks to my beta the great the wonderful Latest From The Asylum they are amazing they're so fucking great i am so grateful to them for helping me out because they are radical and wonderful and yesss

please feel free to criticize and i hope you like the chapter!


	3. Fuck Charity

3

Karkat. Karkat. _Karkat_.

Oh, yes. That's so nice. Familiar. Much tougher than _Jadeth_. Eugh. Where'd that even come from, anyway?

Yes, Karkat. Karkat is your name, and that's basically the only thing you're sure about.

Even better: if you could remember your name out of the blue like that, then who's to say the rest of your memory won't restore itself the same way? A test of patience is surely all this will turn out to be.

Let's see if you can make it that far.

John spent awhile keeping you company, congratulating you on your name and apologizing for all the bullshit in your environment, starting with the faint smell of vomit in the air. He shook his head and said he knew he should have scrubbed harder, obviously referencing another incident. You didn't feel like correcting him.

Then Jane came back, asked him to leave the room, and left you alone to celebrate.

Party of one.

You poked at the sludge, eating about half of it before you felt like you were going to vomit again. Then, you let yourself doze off.

You deserved it.

Now, you don't really know how much time has passed, and you're still alone in your little prison. You're actually pretty okay with that. It's a pleasant change of pace from fear and anxiety. So much energy, from everyone. Even Aradia made your skin feel prickly with static.

So, the peace is to be celebrated.

Hours of peace.

Although.

Your stomach aches too much to properly grumble. It makes disgusting whining noises, which don't really go well with the roar of water.

You look over to the sludge.

You could eat that, but you can still feel the gritty texture on your tongue. If you get desperate enough- oh, who are you kidding? You'd rather eat your own arm than eat anymore of that shit. How much worse did it get with cooling?

"Karkat," you murmur. That's all you can really do. Your name is your only key, the only bridge to the rest of yourself.

That victory still feels good. You hope it lasts.

A quiet knock on the door grasps your attention. You're pleased when you don't jump with fear. Nice job, Karkat.

Ha, that name is so great.

"Hello?"

Great. There goes your 'not-jumping' record. "Uh, yeah. I'm up."

The door opens and Aradia pokes her head in again. You straighten your shoulders at the sight of her. Show no weakness.

She smiles. "How are you, Karkat?"

"Great." Whoops, that sounded a little dry. Oh, well.

She steps in and closes the door behind her. "I'm glad to hear it. I see you didn't finish the sludge."

Is she going get pissy about you wasting food? "I mean-"

She shakes her head, raising a hand. "Don't worry about it. I really don't blame you. You'll have something better to eat, soon. We're heading to port tomorrow."

You furrow your brows. "You have plenty of supplies down below."

Wait, what?

She pauses (for good reason, since your memory is sporadic and unreliable) before nodding slowly. "Yes, we do. But those supplies are for our crew. We're glad to feed you reserves, but Jade-... You're not part of our crew."

You get it, you guess. Doesn't mean you aren't a little miffed. "I understand."

She sighs. "Thank you. We're dropping you off at Grennly. It's a human/troll settlement. We have some connections there that can help you. At the least, they can give you some shelter, and at the most, they can give you a place to start over."

"Sounds amazing," you mutter. Why are you so bitter?

"They are. You'll like it there. It's safe," she promises. You grunt and she looks like she's sorry to be smiling. "Hey, how about you get out of here? Almost everyone's asleep, most importantly Jade. We can go up and you can get some much-needed air."

"That." You let out a long breath and muster up a kinder expression. "That doesn't sound bad."

She grins and clasps her hands together. "Great! Do you need help standing up?"

"No," you reply instinctively. You regret it as soon as your feet touch the cold hardwood. If you aren't already shaky, you're definitely gonna be shivering.

"Oh, right. Of course you need shoes. Hold on, I'll borrow some." And she's back out.

You pull your feet back up, just so you aren't touching the floor. It's the only cold thing, unless the bottoms of your feet are just that sensitive. But that wouldn't make sense.

The door opens again and Aradia presents some bright blue boots to you. Which are probably ten sizes too big.

"I borrowed these from Nepeta. They for them. Horns like a meowbeast's ears." She tosses them the the floor right in front of you. "Just shove them on, and let's go."

You do just that. The boots are so huge, you don't even need to use your hands. And where exactly are the fucking laces? Nowhere, that's where.

Alright, they're on, you're getting up, and would you look at that? She has to hold a hand out to you so you don't fall back down on the stupid cot.

Just keep thinking about your name. That'll distract from your sorry state of being.

She holds a finger to her lips before cracking the door open and leading you through.

You're hit with cleaner air. It's much less stuffy out here, and now you realize that the smell of your barf was something you'd gotten used to. Wonderful.

There isn't much noise beyond breathing and snoring, coming from the crew. You notice that not all of the beds are filled, but Aradia's composure assures you that whoever is still up and about isn't going to harp on her for escorting you up.

She stops and grabs at a handle up on the roof. She tugs on it and steps back, letting the stairs lower themselves. You look around at the sleeping crew, because it sounds pretty loud, but they seem used to sleeping through it.

Once it's lowered, she starts to climb up. You scramble to follow her, glad to find that you're barely struggling to climb up the steps.

When you get onto the deck, a gust of cool air threatens to blow you away. Fortunately, you carry more weight than Jane's fretting suggested.

This air has one first place in the fresh contest, even if you can feel your skin prickling. You don't think you'll be able to stay up here long before becoming a quaking mess.

Looking around, you see that this ship is in pretty bad shape. You can see where recent repairs have been made, but the wood is splintered, crooked and discolored. A glance towards the front of the ship shows you that there once had been a figurehead, but the actual head had been blown off.

Poor bastards must have been hit by pirates. They obviously got away, scathed but whole.

You hear the stairs fold up behind you, and you turn to see Aradia lifting it back up into the floorboards on her own.

She makes it look easy, so you have to make a mental note to never ever try to do that. You will fail, and you will embarrass yourself.

"It's been pretty nice out since you got on board. Almost a whole week without rough waters," Aradia muses as she rejoins you. "Come on, I'll introduce you to our pilot."

You swallow and return to your role as woolbeast. "Your captain?"

Aradia laughs. "No, she can't steer the ship. She's human, silly."

"News to me, thanks." A human captain? "How did she end up captain?"

Aradia shakes her head, waving a hand of dismissal. "That's a whole, complicated matter. All you need to know is that she is the captain, and has been the captain since long before she earned the title."

"Okay, okay." Weird.

Aradia skips up the steps to the helm above the captain's cabin. A wiry troll with four horns is strapping on some devices. They glance up and you flinch back, because their eyes are pretty freaky. It occurs to you that they have to be a psionic, and that's a reasonable explanation for their appearance. Still pretty freaky.

You guess you've never seen a psionic before. Huh.

"Oh, it's you." Don't laugh at their lisp. "I thought CJ would keep you locked up in that closet 'till we docked at PSP."

You look to Aradia, who's looking at you, and you guess you're on your own. Thanks, traitor. "I guess not. Funny how doors with no locks work."

They snort. "I'm Sollux. Use anything with me, I don't give a shit."

"Karkat. Him."

"I know about you, but you wouldn't remember that." They turn to Aradia. "We're about twenty more hours from PSP, but I desperately need to recharge."

"That's alright. You've been in for a long time. Want to plug me in?"

Sollux grimaces. "But you go so _slow_."

Aradia makes a face at him. "That's still _going_."

"I might get sea-sick, though. You know what happens, then."

She scoffs and strides forward, pulling Sollux up and unzipping his harness. She's standing very close to him. You want to look away, you guess. It'd only be polite.

"Just strap me in, already."

"Yes, ma'am." Sollux grins before he mirrors her action and pulls on a lace at her front, causing her corset to loosen up.

Alright, now you better go. Maybe jump ship, or climb up the mast and stay there until you reach land. Yeah, you're embarrassed, so what? This shit's embarrassing to witness as a third-wheel.

You back up a little, only to feel your heel land on nothing. Your pusher stops as you tip back, your arms reaching out to grab at fucking air, which is _so_ helpful.

You collide with your shoulders first, hitting another stair with your head. Your momentum slides you down, letting the corners of the steps hit your head, shoulders and tailbone repeatedly. What fun.

It doesn't last long, and when you still, your head and shoulders are on the deck while the lower half of your miserably uncoordinated body is still going up the stairs.

You hear Sollux snickering and Aradia smothering her smile as she calls down to you. "Are you alright, Karkat?"

You lift a hand, raising a thumb to the sky. "Fine. Just star-gazing. I'm great."

"You didn't happen to forget everything again, did you?"

Your brows furrow. "No?"

"Good! Sollux, go help him. I'll take care of myself. No, that's an order."

A long, weary sigh. Yeah, you can relate.

You hear stubborn feet clack down the stairs before every nerve you have comes alive with static. Your view blurs, and suddenly you're on your feet again, stumbling into a railing. "The fuck?"

"I picked you up," Sollux explains. "You're welcome."

You nod and straighten yourself up, rubbing the back of your head (don't you dare cause any more memory loss, bump) and wondering if your hair looks the way it feels.

Obviously a perfect time for your stomach to whine.

Sollux squints and you close your eyes tightly, willing your existence to cease.

"Man, tough luck. Unfortunately for you, I'm anti-charity." You open your eyes and he's not as physically hostile as his words. "Come on, AA's going to need some privacy."

"Uh, why?"

Sollux rolls his shoulders, grunting with discomfort. "In order to steer the ship, you need a troll with psychic energy in the helm. Some trolls have more than others, it's all case by case. AA's energy is mostly passive, and it'll take a lot more focus for - why am I spending time explaining this to you? You'll probably just forget it all in a few hours, anyway."

You make sure to look offended, because you're suddenly scared that he's right. "Whatever. I didn't really care, anyway."

"Sure."

They let out a long sigh. "Go up to the lookout tower with me. You'll go stir crazy if I send you back down already."

You look to see how high it is and yelp when you feel an arm wrap around you. The static comes back, making the hair on your head raise.

"Dude, what the fuck?!" You cling to Sollux as you watch the deck gain distance from your feet. Which, you promptly wrap around their body.

He grunts, pushing at your legs. "Relax, man. If you keep struggling, I'll drop you. On purpose."

You go absolutely still, because you absolutely believe him when he says that. He's made it painfully clear that he has no regard for your life. You hate them so much.

Your pan starts to feel a little light as you continue watching the stable deck distance itself from you. You screw your eyes shut and turn your head into Sollux, your chest aching with fear.

Wait, no. Air. Air. Fuck, _air_.

"Shit," Sollux breathes incredulously, his grip slackening. You shriek and dig your claws into him, making him grunt in pain. "We _landed_, idiot."

The static gets painful, briefly. Only long enough to make you let go and send you back, landing on wood and stumbling until your lower back collides with the railing around the platform. You have a death grip on the railing, you're breathing heavily, and you are beyond grateful that Sollux isn't even looking at you. Even if that is kinda really fucking inconsiderate.

"You aren't cold?"

Okay, that came way out of left field. So much for inconsiderate.

"No," you reply gruffly as the freezes your arms. Nevermind, he did that on purpose. Mentioned the cold so that you'd suffer again. God, what an asshole.

"K," he mutters. He kneels down and takes a seat on the floor, resting his head on a pole of rail.

The wind blows and no one says another word.

Great. What now? You're stranded with a sadistic bulgechafe on a tower with _even less_ surface area to stand on, thanks to him sitting down.

You refuse to shield yourself from the cold.

You wait a bit, staring at him and expecting more conversation, but he's just looking ahead past the bow of the ship. Or, you think that's where he's looking. You can't exactly tell.

Two minutes now. Nothing. You let out a breath and turn away from him, inconspicuously crossing your arms.

Woah.

You slowly uncross your arms, stepping to get a better view. The ocean looks rough, coarse, and the quiet, constant noise has a sudden cause. Dark, terrifying blue, and white where the moon spits on the water. You swallow, trying to rationalize your reaction, but you think you long figured that you didn't really remember what the ocean looked like, just what it was.

How many other things are just memories of memories?

"Have a seat. I have a coat in my deck."

Ah, he speaks.

You take a steadying breath to tear yourself away from the water, then to maneuver yourself to be able to sit beside him. A coat appears in his hands as he passes it to you. You don't say anything as you shrug into it. Kinda small, but you're not complaining. Aloud.

"We found you on a tiny boat in the middle of the water, laying in a pool of your own vomit." You turn to him, eyes wide. You didn't take them for talkative, but this is something you'd like to hear so you aren't going to say a thing. "We wouldn't have found you if EB wasn't slacking when we were working on trying to keep our ship afloat. He doesn't usually, not when it counts. You owe him."

"EB?"

"John."

Really? That kid? He tried to poison you with suspicious sludge, you don't owe him shit. But like. Did he actually do something noble? Or did he just notice your boat floating all alone? You don't want to know. You don't want to feel like you owe anyone anything.

"Did you salvage anything from the boat? Anything that tells me who I am?"

"Nothing we knew anything about."

You wait for him to keep going, yet again, and he doesn't. You just stare at your hands, head heavy. Full of nothing.

But they saved _something_, right?

You clear your throat and turn to him, mouth open to ask, but his eyes are closed and dark. "Sollux?"

Nothing. Exactly what he's keen on offering you.

So much for 'not thleeping any time thoon.'

The breeze picks up briefly and you shiver, tucking your hands into your arms. This coat is your feeble lifeline to not turning into a creamsicle. Lucky that Sollux had this in his. His deck.

You straighten up and try to look for yours, reaching for the cards with your mind as actively as you can.

You find them, just in front of your gaze, and they're locked in some kind of- a safe?

You squint at it, kind of perplexed. What the hell would drive you to pick up a safe modus?

Well, you don't remember the combination. This is the millionth mystery that's definitely going to have to wait. You'll have all of the time in the world at Pike Sea's Port.

You sigh loudly and lean back, closing your eyes. This sucks.

You open them again, staring at the stars and watching them run. Your eyes feel heavy, but they're burning too much to keep them closed. You don't want to stay up any more.

Thinking is not your thing.

Karkat.

* * *

AN: I'll probably post a (more) edited version of this soon, but nothing major will change. ijustkindofamexcited. ;] all commentary is welcome!


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